“How’s he doing?” ZenTar¹Literally zen (silent) + tar (wind) asked in a whisper, peering at the boy silently sitting on the other edge of the wooden bench.

“How am I supposed to know that?”

ZenTar glared at him in disapproval but ended up sighing. Maybe he should have started by asking how ZaiWin²Literally zai (blade) + win (chaos). was feeling, he considered. But, then again, he didn’t need to ask. All he had to do was take a look at his face. He’d known him since the day he was born and, although most people thought he had an annoying poker face, ZenTar had learned a long time ago to interpret the small changes in his expression that always gave him away.

ZaiWin was beyond angry. He was furious. And ZenTar still couldn’t believe that they’d all been able to leave that room without blood being spilled. Or even worse. Without someone being permanently reallocated to a coffin.

“HawkEye said that the kids she was keeping were being forced to do all kinds of stuff. Do you think that Snow was also forced to … do those things?”

The deadly glare he received made him sigh again.

“I understand you don’t want to talk or even think about it. I don’t want to talk about it either. But if it becomes known that he’s been through such ordeals, they won’t think twice about killing him where he stands! You know what they say about Celestials, right? That they must be kept pure and chaste, or they’ll bring disaster to the world.”

“So what? Him being a whore will only be another pretext to have him killed anyway. Or do you think they will accept the fact that he was born a boy and not a girl like the rest of them?” ZaiWin replied dryly and ZenTar took a deep breath.

“I think that the matter of gender could eventually be seen as … a curiosity. Something new and worth studying. But this …”

“So they’ll lock him up and poke him, and run experiments on him trying to decipher why he was born a boy? Don’t worry. I’ll kill him myself before I allow that to happen!”

“I couldn’t care less about what they do to him!” ZenTar answered, an annoyed frown marking his forehead. “Do I feel sorry for the damn kid? Sure! Sure I do! But I’ve told you before, right? One must choose carefully those he wants to protect. Trying to hold too many people in your hands will only result in losing all of them. And my hands are already full with you, and then my family. I cannot carry anyone else, much less a heavy load like him! My only concerned is that, should they succeed in killing him, you may die as well!”

Taking a deep breath ZaiWin finally relaxed a bit.
“I know. And I’m sorry. And don’t worry. I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“You better! I’d be really pissed if you’d just die from such a silly death, after all I’ve done and put up with to raise you this far!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

They both looked at the boy, still sitting in silence, and saw MenTar³Literally men (lake) + tar (wind) approach him with a bowl of hot soup. The tension ZaiWin had just released immediately took over his body again, making him grit his teeth as he did his best to keep himself under control.

“And remember what you promised! You’re not allowed to kill my brother! No matter how obnoxious he might be.”

“I know …”

ZenTar sighed and stood up. Just to play it safe he joined his brother, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to make sure he kept his distance from the boy.

“But you have to eat something,” he was arguing, the smoking bowl still in his hand, but Snow shook his head. “Zen, help me convince him! He’s just sitting here, staring into nothingness, and he refuses to eat!” MenTar reported, sounding very much like a complaining child, and ZenTar took a deep breath, mentally praying for patience.

“Just leave him be! He’ll eat when he gets hungry! Put that down and come with me.”

“But!”

“No buts! There’s something I need you to do!”

MenTar sighed in defeat and placed the bowl on the table, giving the boy a last commiserating glance, before allowing ZenTar to successfully drag him away.

They’d stopped in a small street stall in order to get something to eat. It was obviously far from being a fancy place, but it was nevertheless one of those places Snow had only been allowed to look at from afar. And he had done so, more than once, watching as people came and went, how they behaved, how they talked, what they ate. He’d learned a lot just from looking at them, since Sand had never uttered a single word her entire life. He had learned about families, and couples, and friends. He had learned about sweet words and arguments, about businesses and deals. Sitting around a table people would talk about just anything. He’d listened to women gossip, he’d seen men cheating on their lovers. He’d even listened eagerly to some amazing stories told by passing travelers. But he’d only been allowed to do so from afar, standing on the other side of the street. For every time he’d dared cross that invisible line the owner of the establishment had always mercilessly kicked him right back to where he’d come from.

Now he was finally sitting in one such a place, together with everyone else, blessedly invisible amongst them. It was as if he had miraculously became a part of a picture he’d only been able to admire from afar. He even had a bowl of delicious-looking soup placed right in front of him, the brown things floating in it one of his recently discovered favorites. Wild mushrooms, that he had eaten for the first time just a few days ago, while on the road with the rest of them. And yet, even though the entire picture was very close to what he had dreamed of when he was a child, his throat felt too constrict, as if an invisible hand was slowly choking him, making it impossible for him to swallow his own spit, much less a spoon full of soup.

“Are you really going to stop eating because of that bitch?” an ironic voice mocked him and he didn’t have to raise his head to know who had spoken.

Angry at him, above all angry at himself, Snow took out the spoon and grabbed the bowl with both hands, taking it to his lips. Opening his mouth and tilting his head back, he forced himself to swallow mouthful after mouthful until there was nothing else. His tongue was burned and he couldn’t recall what it had tasted like, but he still felt proud when he placed the empty bowl back on the table.

“Let’s go.”

He had barely heard those words when a hand grabbed his wrist and dragged him away, almost making him fall of the bench.